


Different

by inabodycastofglass



Series: Old works [19]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of attempted coerced rape, Mentions of past abuse, Nothing explicit, Post Movie, Roland's an ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:57:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8014918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabodycastofglass/pseuds/inabodycastofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bog was different than Roland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different

She hated taking note of their differences. It always reminded her of what a mistake being with Roland was.

But it always pushed it’s way into her mind. Bog was sweet and wonderful and shy and everything that conniving sneak wasn’t.

She’d always thought that anxious feeling she got when she was with Roland was love, sending lightning through her veins, something exciting. But she knew now how stupid that was. Love didn’t make you feel terrified like that. It didn’t make you self conscious of every move and every sound you made.

It started with a slight roll of his eyes. She didn’t think anything of it at first, because she was just so happy. This gorgeous, brave, perfect fairy was in love with her. Her! The world was bliss.

And then she noticed he did it every time she did certain things. Gave her “weird laugh”, sung the wrong song, stumbled while dancing. That was fine. She just wouldn’t do those things anymore. There was nothing wrong with a little self improvement, especially for the person you love.

And then there were the small, passive comments. About her appearance, her grace, her intelligence. All while boosting him up. They were easy enough to ignore at first, but as they got more frequent and more obvious, she started to call him out on it. But he was only joking, or she was overreacting, or it didn’t even happen. She started chastising herself for making things up in her head. Of course he wasn’t doing that. She was just nervous.

Then he started getting distant. He was always off with his soldiers, at work, with his friends. He had always been busy, as captain of the royal guard, but never so much. Even the small snippets of time they’d had before were gone. And sometimes he’d tell her he was doing one thing, and then later he’d done something else.

When she’d asked him what was going on, he’d snapped at her, accusing her of not trusting him. Only that wasn’t it at all. But instead of defending herself, fighting back like she should have, she’d apologised.

“That’s all right, pretty thang. We all make mistakes sometimes. Well, not all of us.” And he would smile at her and her body would fill with that energy again.

When he proposed, it was in a room full of people with her family watching on, and she felt like she had to accept. Not that she wouldn’t have, of course, but there was no option. She couldn’t embarrass him like that.

Then it all became clear when she saw him kissing another woman. He never loved her. Not for a single moment.

In the years that passed she realized, all too slowly, how messed up everything was. The way she’d been used for her position as princess. That was really all any guy wanted from her or her sister. They were all slimy, gross, manipulative, greasy- She screamed in rage every time she thought of it.

But Bog was so, so different. She could tell from the that second meeting just how different. Not the first, of course. Since he’s swooped in and kidnapped her sister. And of course, him being a man and all.

But their fight was so exciting, exhilarating, fantastic! And the adrenaline that passed between them! She could feel it every time their weapons struck. It peppered the air like pollen. It was fun. She’d never had so much fun being her. And that was it. She was being her, something she never could be with Roland.

And not only did Bog not mind it, he liked it. Even when he wasn’t suppose to say so, it slipped out. He was honest. With his love, his hurt, his insecurity. Everything could be seen clearly in his face.

And he cared about her. He wasn’t too busy admiring an idealized version of who she could be. He didn’t care about her position of power or what it could do for him. In fact, it couldn’t do anything for him, it just kept them apart.

He had a kingdom to run, and she had to sit through endless meetings and committees and audiences to train to take over her own kingdom. They were only able to see each other once most weeks. And yet every time she came by he would rush to meet her, and for that entire night it was just the two of them.

A few times he’d been busy when she showed up and couldn’t be pulled away. Each time Griselda would entertain her, mostly with stories of Bog as a child, or something equally embarrassing. And she’d always make sure to tell her what a bad mood he was in without her, and how he’d snap at everyone, and throw tantrums, hitting things with his staff and refusing to eat. “Such a larva!”

And, of course, he would burst in during one of her rants and rush Marianne off with Griselda calling after them about how lovely it was to see her again, and to come by more often!

And he never, ever pressured her into doing anything, though, really, she was typically more anxious than he was.

There was one time when they were kissing and his mouth had moved to her neck. She’d had a sudden jilt of fear and told him to stop. He’d looked at her with eyes that held more terror than she’d ever seen.

He’d apologised profusely and she had to spend several minutes telling him it was fine. He’d listened. And it shouldn’t have been that big of a thing. It should be expected that, when someone says stop, you stop. But it was. Roland had- Roland had pressured her, and gotten frustrated when she’d stop things, leaving in a huff, leaving her mortified and hurt. But Bog had apologised.

Most importantly, she felt safe with him. She wasn’t scared she’d mess things up, she wasn’t scared he’d suddenly snap at her (she was the only one he didn’t do that to), wasn’t scared he’d suddenly leave her or kiss someone else. He was someone she could fall asleep next to, wrapped up in his arms, and know he’d be there when she woke up, probably watching her sleep, which had mortified him the first few times she’d caught him doing it.

Lack of grace, loud voice, ideals, sense of adventure; he loved it all. And he had it all. And god she loved him for it.

Well, that and a few other things.


End file.
